


Atropos

by White_Gladioli



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxious Connor (Detroit: Become Human), At this point it's barely angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hallucinations, Hank Anderson Whump, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 17:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17309003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Gladioli/pseuds/White_Gladioli
Summary: “You're taking a sick day. Go sit on the couch. It’s better if I can monitor you while you’re awake.”“Righ’, right...” Hank shuffled to the couch and sat down heavily. Sumo snuggled against him, seemingly sensing Hank’s distress.





	Atropos

Connor adjusted the length on Sumo’s retractable leash and spared a wary glance at the surrounding neighborhood. He didn’t know much about his area, as he’d only seen it when he and Hank drove by on their way to the precinct. The block was comprised of dilapidated houses and businesses that had shut down in the wake of the android revolution. The streets were trash-ridden, and almost entirely devoid of people.   
  
Sumo excitedly sniffed at a patch of tall grass near a crooked wire fence and began to frantically dig at it, causing thick mud and various weeds to cling to his fur.  
  
“Oh, I am _not_ looking forward to cleaning you up,” Connor lamented.  
  
Continuing to take in his surrounds as a distraction from Sumo’s mess, Connor noticed a vibrant green bush standing stark against a pile of concrete rubble. It was roughly 4 feet in height, with purple bell-shaped flowers and shiny black berries. Connor let the leash extend as he walked to the bush and bent down to examine the berries. Their black, almost purple-ish hue resonated somewhere in his memory. But _where...?_  
  
Ah! There were elderberry bushes in the garden of Jericho’s new headquarters. A garden had been started in the courtyard courtesy of a kind android named Ralph. The circumstances under which Connor had first met Ralph were unfavorable- he’d been hunting a fugitive AX400 who Ralph was helping to hide- but Connor was sure to make amends with him at Jericho after the successful revolution.  
  
Running a quick search, he found that elderberries had medicinal properties and mixed well with other fruits. Maybe he would put them in a smoothie for Hank? Connor had been trying to make home-cooked meals and healthy fruit smoothies in replacement of the usual greasy take-out food and oversweetened carbonated drinks that Hank usually opted for. He wasn’t always successful, but it was better for Hank to scoff at his more-than-slightly burnt food and homemade drinks then for him to get a burger from the Chicken Feed and down a Pineapple Passion with 184 grams of sugar.  
  
He had only picked 5 berries when Sumo let out a loud bark and proudly trotted out over to him, dragging along a detached android arm.  
  
“Sumo, NO! Drop it!” Connor commanded, sounding appalled. Sumo let it clatter onto the cement and looked up expectantly.  
  
“Good... boy...?” Connor reluctantly picked up the arm. A scan showed that it was over 6 months old, belonging to a LA900 android. It was badly warped in multiple places, wires splayed out through the elbow, and sizeable cracks webbed over the plating. It was caked in mud, confirming his suspicion that Sumo had dug it out from where someone buried it.  
  
“Stay, Sumo. And DON’T fetch, okay?” Anxious to rid himself of the limb, Connor aimed for a place behind the rubble and threw the arm away with a whispered “sorry”.  
  
“All right. We’re getting out of here. Come on, Sumo!” He grabbed Sumo’s collar and began to tug him back to the house, but not without picking 10 more ripe and luscious berries.  
  
***  
  
Connor dropped the 15 berries into the blender amongst a myriad of other fruits and plain yogurt. He replaced the blender’s top and pushed it down, listening for the telltale _click_ of the lid being secured before turning it on.  
  
“184 grams, Hank,” Connor reprimanded, pushing the house and car keys further toward the sink to make room on the counter for the fresh Caprese Quinoa Bake, “that’s 46 teaspoons of sugar. Can you imagine dipping a spoon into a bag of sugar and eating it _46 times?_ ”  
  
“Yes. Yes I can.”  
  
“This is why you need me.”  
  
Upon seeing the Caprese Quinoa, Hank rose from his recliner and gravitated to the table like an ancient god that had been summoned with a ritual.  
  
“The quinoa bake is hot,” Connor warned, “you should wait.”  
  
“Nah. I can handle hot food.”  
  
“Alright. Then will you tell me how this smoothie tastes instead of complaining about how I won’t let you eat junk food?” Connor poured the bright purple drink into a glass and set it on the table. Hank picked it up and took a cautious sip.  
  
“Kinda bittersweet,” Hank commented, bringing the glass away from his lips to observe the color.  
  
“Is it bad?”  
  
“It’s not repulsive. I’m just not tempted to have it again. Though, I’ll drink it this time for you.”  
  
“I just put in a new ingredient this time, you don’t have to drink it if-“  
  
Too late. Hank had already downed the entire drink.  
  
“Determination,” Connor said dryly, setting the caprese quinoa bake on the table. Hank dug out a large chunk of it and took a bite.  
  
“The quinoa though? That’s perfect,” he mumbled through his full mouth.  
  
Connor smiled. “I hoped it would be.”  
  
  
Connor and Hank lazed on the couch for about an hour after dinner, watching a basketball game rerun (why was it always basketball? Didn’t Hank have any other tastes?). Connor normally wouldn’t have sat still for so long, but Sumo was resting across both of their laps, and god strike him dead if he dare disturb such a good boy.  
  
Hank shoved Sumo off of their laps in one movement. Oblivious to Connor’s death glare, he stretched his arms and yawned, shaking his too-long gray hair out of his eyes.  
  
“Welp, I’m heading to bed. Night, Connor.”  
  
“It’s only 9:37.”  
  
“Shouldn’t you be proud that I’m going to bed at a decent time?”  
  
“Stop playing to my weaknesses.”  
  
Hank raised his eyebrows in amusement. “You call caring about me a weakness?”  
  
“Emotions in general are a weakness. Anyway, I was just about to do the laundry and the dishes. Would it make too much noise while you’re trying to sleep?”  
  
“Connor, you don’t have to be a housemaid. I’ve told you that again and again. But do you listen? _No_ , of course you don’t.”  
  
“A clean home is a happy home, Hank. Besides, I can’t sit around doing nothing like you can.”  
  
“Ha-ha. Look, _I’ll_ do the laundry and the dishes tomorrow. I’m not suddenly incapable of doing chores because you moved in!”  
  
“Fine, fine. Goodnight, Hank.”  
   
Connor settled further into the couch and called Sumo up. With a heavy dog on top of him and Hank’s steady snoring as background noise, he was soon drifting into a blissful sleep.  
  
Until he was woken up 2 hours later by Hank roughly shaking him awake.  
  
“Go sleep in your bed, kid. You’ll thank me later,” Hank croaked.  
  
Connor sat up. “Your voice sounds strained. Are you all right?”  
  
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Jus’ a cold. Probably. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”  
  
“Then why are you awake?”  
  
“Went to get some water ‘cause my throat’s dry.”  
  
Connor frowned as he watched Hank amble to the fridge. Taking the liberty to scan Hank (no Hank, it’s not invasive, it’s using what’s at your disposal) he noted that Hank’s additional symptoms included an increased heart rate and excessive sweating. There was also residual vomit around Hank’s mouth. It wasn’t much for concern, but considering Hank was trying to quit drinking after 3 years of being a heavy alcoholic...  
  
“Hank?” Connor slid off the couch and stopped Hank as he was heading back to his room with a water bottle. “I need to prove a theory. Follow my finger.”  
  
Connor held his finger in front of Hank’s face. Hank looked at it, blinked harshly, and clapped a hand over his eyes.  
  
“Whoa, shit, tha’s blurry.”  
  
“Thought so,” Connor sighed. “I think I know what’s going on with you.”  
  
“What? I told you it was jus’ a cold.”  
  
“Nope. I think it’s alcohol withdrawl. Are you experiencing any nausea or stomach pain?”  
  
“Uh, yeah. I am.”  
  
Connor hissed in sympathy. “You’re taking a sick day. Go sit on the couch. It’s better if I can monitor you while you’re awake.”  
  
“Righ’, right...” Hank shuffled to the couch and sat down heavily. Sumo snuggled against him, seemingly sensing Hank’s distress.  
  
 “I’ll do the laundry now, if that’s okay with you,” Connor said timidly.  
  
“Go ahead. ‘s not like I’ll be doin’ it anytime sssoon.”  
  
“You’re kind of slurring your words. Did you know that?”  
  
“Yeah, cause ’m tired.”  
  
Connor frowned worriedly. “Call me if you need me.”  
  
The pile of laundry wasn’t large, but Connor didn’t like being away from Hank while the man was ill. To some extent, it was his fault that Hank was going through this- he’d been the one to force Hank to lay off on the drinking, after all- but he regretted nothing.  
  
Coming back into the hallway from where the washer and dryer were located in his room, Connor saw that Hank was no longer slouching in his seat, but instead sitting up ramrod straight and staring wide-eyed at the corner of the living room toward the window.  
  
Connor slowly approached him, hands hovering nervously in the air. “Hank?”  
  
Hank didn’t move. His face was incredibly pale, and he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.  
  
“Hank! What’s wrong?”  
  
“Co-Cole...”  
  
“Shit, you’re hallucinating.”  
  
“’M not hallucinatin’!” Hank shouted defensively.  
  
“Yes, you are. And I don’t know how you feel about hospitals, but this is scaring _me,_ so I’m taking you to the emergency room.” Connor spun around the room. “Where are the god-fucked keys...?”  
  
Spotting them on near the sink, he rushed into the kitchen and snatched them off the counter. He was about to turn away when the sickly purple residue at the bottom of last night’s smoothie cup caught his attention.  
  
_Oh. Oh no._ Had he ever scanned the berries?  
  
He scooped a bit of the smoothie onto his index finger and pressed it to his tongue. Running a sample analysis, a list of ingredients was presented to him. All of the ingredients were familiar, except-  
  
ATROPA BELLADONNA:  
Commonly known as Belladonna or Deadly Nightshade. A perennial herbaceous plant in the nightshade family Solanaceae. Foliage and berries are extremely toxic when ingested. Contains tropane alkaloids which cause delirium and hallucinations.  
  
Shit. If Hank doesn’t die, he’s going to kill me.  
  
***  
  
The private hospital room was dark, with the curtains drawn and the door shut. The beeping and humming of various machines paired with Hank’s shallow breathing created an eerie symphony that put unnecessary emphasis on Connor’s already ravaging thoughts.  
  
Was there anything Connor could to do prevent he immense backlash he was bound to receive from Hank? Would Hank believe that he hadn’t use atropa belladonna on purpose? Would he be kicked out of the house? How could he have forgotten to scan them in the first place?! Why did CyberLife create such an ignorant android?! Why was he always a danger to the people around him?  
  
_“It's my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho...”_  
  
“ _I'm sorry, Hank! You shouldn't have got mixed up in all this!”_    
  
A soft groan from the hospital bed told Connor that Hank had woken up from his light doze. It was a few more minutes as Hank fully roused himself before he finally spoke.  
  
“Connor?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Wha- wha’ happened? I don’t remember much.”  
  
“You accidentally ingested 15 deadly nightshade berries. The symptoms are very similar to alcohol withdrawl, so I didn’t identify it right away. When we arrived at the hospital you were given benzodiazepines for your aggression, and physostigime as an antidote to the nightshade toxins. The nurse says that your vital parameters are stable and any physical symptoms should have ceased thanks to additional medicinal aid. If you show no signs of delirium or aggression in the next 5 hours then you will be discharged, otherwise you will have to be sent to a psychiatric ward for observation.”  
  
“Yeah, wonders of advanced medicine, that’s great. So how did I ingest deadly nightshade in the first place?”  
  
A surge of anxiety had Connor gritting his teeth and tightly gripping the metal armrests of the chair he sat in. Unfortunately, his grip was _too_ tight, and both armrests bent under the pressure.  
  
Hank lifted his head to watch Connor awkwardly working to bend the metal back into place. “There must be something big you’re not telling me if you’re breaking chairs out of stress.”  
  
“You should press the call button for the nurse,” Connor grunted, “she’d want to check up on you now that you’re awake.”  
  
“Look, I don’t have the energy for this. Tell. me. what. happened.”  
  
Connor slumped in his chair with a resigned sigh. “I found a deadly nightshade bush while I was walking Sumo, and I thought it was the same as the elderberry bushes I’d seen at Jericho’s headquarters. Since I read that elderberries mix well with other fruits, I considered putting them into a smoothie for you. So I picked a few.”  
  
“You call 15 ‘a few’?”  
  
Connor flinched. “I... neglected to scan them, otherwise I would’ve known they were nightshade and I wouldn’t have put them in. I’m so, so sorry, that _never_ should have happened.”  
  
“Damn right it should’ve never happened.”  
  
Connor held his breath, waiting for the rest of Hank’s judgment to befall. When he couldn’t bear the continuing silence anymore, he asked, “Are you angry with me?”  
  
“Nah. Just a bit amazed at how someone as precise as you could forget to scan ‘em.”  
  
“Well, Sumo _did_ distract me by digging up a dead android’s detached arm. But it was majority my fault.“  
  
“He _what?_ ”  
  
“Ah, well, the plastic smell probably reminded him of me.”  
  
“Damned dog...” Hank huffed.  
  
“Wait...” Connor tilted his head, “why _aren’t_ you mad at me?”  
  
Hank frowned. “It was a mistake, and mistakes happen. Just be _careful_ next time, goddamn it. That’s all I ask.”  
  
Connor tiled his head even further, then tilted it the other way, but no angle could help him comprehend Hank’s lax attitude any better.  
  
“Quit doing that. You’ll snap your neck.”  
  
Connor immediately straightened his neck. “Sorry. I just... it’s hard to find a way to express my guilt when your reaction is so underwhelming.”  
  
“Well, I know you wouldn’t poison me on _purpose,_ so I’m not worried about that... and I’m not in pain or hallucinating anymore...  yeah. Not much to be wound-up about on my part.”  
  
“I see... I think.”  
  
“And what do you mean by ‘underwhelming’? Were you expecting me to throw you outta the house or something?”  
  
“...”  
  
“Goddamn it, Connor.”

**Author's Note:**

> Connor can be troublesome, but he's a good kid in Hank's eyes.
> 
> The symptoms of atropa belladonna poisoning are really similar to alcohol withdrawl, and when paired with the fact that in one of the only first-person accounts of atropa belldonna poisoning the victim was just 1 inch taller and weighed 11 pounds more than Hank, this idea had perfect breeding grounds. 
> 
> hjhgjkfhg comments are good


End file.
